


5 Cups

by eponine119



Category: Lost
Genre: 5 Things, F/M, Flash Sideways Verse, mix of sideways verse and regular verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:21:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25205398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eponine119/pseuds/eponine119
Summary: Five cups of coffee Sawyer and Juliet shared, and one cup of tea that they did not.
Relationships: Juliet Burke/James "Sawyer" Ford
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	5 Cups

5 Cups  
by eponine119  
June 8, 2020 – June 11, 2020

1\. Miami, 1989 / Sideways

James got in his car and drove as fast and as far as he could go, because those guys will kill him if they find him. He had a vague thought that he'd drive all the way to Key West and then get on some kind of boat and just keep going, Hemingway-style. 

But it's 2 a.m., he's exhausted and he has to pee, and he's only just made it to Miami. Maybe Miami is far enough, he thinks, pulling off into the parking lot of the Waffle House. 

He hears the yelling as soon as he shuts off the car and the stereo dies. Frowning, he swivels his head, looking for the source. It's a guy and a girl, over by the scruffiest car he's ever seen. His heart starts to race, because he's got enough trouble in his life without this, but she's slim and blond and helpless-looking, with masses of blond ringlets blowing in the wind. He's never been able to resist a pretty girl, or the instinct to play hero. 

By the time he's out of the car and stomping his way over, the guy has gotten back into his car. The girl pulls at the door handle, and then stumbles back as the driver floors it and the car pulls away fast. “Jack!” she screams, angry, taking two steps running after the car, and then she stops, because he's gone and it's pointless. 

“Hey,” James says. “You okay? That guy hurt you?” 

She looks at him with big blue eyes. “I'm fine.” She glances off in the direction the car went. “That guy was my boyfriend.” 

“Was bein' the key word here,” James says. “You wanna get some coffee?” 

“Sure,” she says, and then a frown crosses her face. “Damn it, my purse was in the car.” She kicks one foot as though the car, or perhaps its driver, was there in front of her. 

“My treat,” James says. 

“He'll come back,” she insists, like she's trying to convince herself. 

“Depends on what you were fightin' over,” James says. He opens the door and gestures her through it. “Grab us a booth, I gotta make a pit stop.” 

She looks him in the eye, but her voice wavers. “Don't ditch me.” 

“You got it,” he says, and goes into the men's room. He does his business and then checks himself out. He's wearing his cool pink t-shirt, but his jeans are raggedy as ever. He feathers back his hair in the mirror. Then he emerges, looking down the length of the restaurant, half-expecting her to be gone. 

She's not. She's in the first booth, sitting with her head in her hands. The waitress gives him a dirty look and he gives it right back to her. He slides in across from the girl. “You order us up some joe?” 

“Coming right up,” she says from behind her hands. 

“You hungry? Want a waffle?” 

She lets her hands drop to the table. “I'm starving lately,” she admits, with kind of a goofy grin. 

“So y'all weren't eatin' here when you had your little...spat,” he observes. 

“No, we were arguing in the car and he pulled over.” 

“Whatcha fighting about?” James asks, because he's curious. 

“Maybe later,” she says softly. “It's a long story.” 

“I got nothin' but time,” he declares, and leans back, stretching his arm out along the back of the booth. He looks at her, giving her a head tilt and a display of what he knows are his killer dimples. 

“What's your story?” she asks. “I saw your plates are from Tennessee.” 

He's surprised she noticed that. “Yeah, I had to split.” 

“You drove here from Tennessee... tonight?” she asks. “How long did that take you?” 

“'Bout twelve hours,” he says. “Was gonna keep going, but... you know.” 

“Keep going where?” she asks. “The ocean?” 

He shrugs, and looks out the window. “Tell me about him.” 

“He's an arrogant bastard,” she says. 

“You sound heartbroken.” 

“I didn't say I didn't love him,” she points out quickly. 

“I admire your loyalty to a guy who ditched you in the middle of the night in the middle of nowhere,” James says. 

“You shouldn't,” she says. “It's one of my worst qualities.” She gives him a little smile, and he huffs out a laugh. 

The waitress pours their coffee and asks for their order. James orders a waffle with sides of eggs, hash browns, and grits. The girl hesitates and looks at him. “Get what you want,” he tells her. “No strings.” She requests a waffle and some hash browns. The waitress takes their menus and leaves them alone again. 

“How old are you?” he asks, eyeing her face. 

“Nineteen.” 

“Me too.” He grins. He picks up his coffee and drinks it. It's so hot he can't even taste it, but he feels the caffeine instantly hit his blood. “That's good.” 

“Mmm,” she agrees, taking a small sip and setting it down. 

“You got a name?” 

“Doesn't everyone?” she shoots back. 

“Sometimes two or three.” He waits. 

“No names,” she suggests, wrapping her hands around the cup and taking another sip. “We're not going to be friends. We're just strangers passing through.” 

“How do you know this ain't the start of something great?” he asks her. 

“If we get to that point, I'll tell you my name,” she promises. 

“Okay, mystery lady. Where were you headed?” 

“School,” she says. “Back to college.”

“So tell me, smartypants...” he begins, and she gives him a look. “You ain't gonna give me a name, I gotta make one up.” She just keeps looking at him. “Fine,” he relents. “What're you studying?” 

She looks up at the ceiling as her eyes fill with tears. 

“It can't be that bad,” he says wildly, because he hates it when girls cry, and this one seemed so tough until just a second ago. 

“Oh, but it is.” 

“You can change your major,” he points out. 

She bursts out laughing, and for a second he smiles because it's such a weird, great laugh. But then it takes a turn toward hysteria, and then she's crying for real. She puts her head back into her hands. 

At this moment, their food arrives. The waitress gives him a glare that could kill. He wants to protest, but he just glares back. She nods like she's keeping an eye on him, and then goes back to the server station and starts rolling silverware. 

“That lady thinks I'm gonna hurt you,” he says. 

She wipes her eyes and tries to smile. “For all I know, you're some kind of criminal.” She digs in to the hash browns like she hasn't eaten in a week. 

“I'm not,” he says. “That's why I was runnin'.” 

She stops in mid-bite and looks at him interestedly. He realizes he's said more than he meant to. He tilts his head and lets his hair fall into his eyes as he looks down at his plate. Then he looks at her and she's still giving him that same look. 

“I'll tell you my story if you tell me yours,” she offers, in a low voice that he finds incredibly sexy. His lips start to move, and she adds, “You first.” 

“Damn it, woman,” he protests, and shovels in some food and gulps down some coffee. She's still waiting when he looks at her. “It ain't that interesting.” 

“Yeah, me either,” she says, and pours a ton of syrup on her waffle. 

He sighs, because of course he’s going to tell her. “There were these guys. And they were kinda – on the wrong side of the law. I owed 'em some money. Said they were gonna kill me if they didn't get it.” 

“So you ran,” she says. 

“Not exactly.” He drinks some more coffee. “I went to the cops. Helped 'em pull a sting on these guys. Got all the evidence they needed to lock 'em up.” 

She looks confused. 

“They made bail,” he says. “So now they're out, I owe 'em money and they're up on charges.” 

“So you ran,” she says, but it's different this time. 

“Fine, let's have it. I'm a coward. And a snitch.” 

“No, I think you did the right thing,” she says. 

“Really?” 

She nods. “Up until the running part. Aren't they going to need you to testify?” 

“Probably,” he says. “Hence the whole ‘they're gonna kill me’ thing.” 

“I bet they won't,” she says. “Unless... did they try?” 

“I wasn't waitin' around to give 'em the chance!” 

“You should go back,” she says. “The police will protect you, I bet. You liked helping them, didn't you?” 

He's not sure how she knows that. “Yeah,” he admits. 

“Go back. And then become a cop,” she says. 

“Me,” he says. It had never occurred to him before, so it seems a little far fetched. 

“What else were you gonna do with your life?” she asks. 

He shakes his head. Aside from the driving as far and as fast as he could, he didn't really know. He's been drifting since school, which is how he got himself into trouble. “I was gonna become a con man,” he mumbles. 

“A what?” she says, like it's the most absurd thing she's heard in her life. “Is that even a thing?” 

“It's a thing,” he replies, darkly. 

“No way,” she says. “If you were going to do that, you would've done it to get those guys off your back. Instead of going to the police. So you should do it. Become a cop,” she says, as though saying it is the same as making it happen. She finishes her hash browns and drinks some more of the coffee. 

“Maybe I will,” he says. “Where do you go to school?” 

“Los Angeles,” she replies. He looks at her curiously, wondering what she's doing in Florida. “Why?” 

He shrugs. “I could use a change of scene. They probably got cops in LA.” 

She gives him that smile again. “They probably do.” The smile fades just as quickly. 

“What?” he asks. 

“It looks like I'm going to be taking some time away from school,” she says, and she looks so sad he's afraid she's going to start crying again.

“Hey,” he says, and the waitress comes around to refill their coffees. He avoids her eyes but says, “You can leave the pot.” She does, and huffs away. 

“It's the oldest story in the book,” the girl says to him. “It's kind of embarrassing.” 

He's not following her. 

“I really want to be a doctor,” she tells him. “I've always wanted to be a doctor. Ever since I can remember. I had one of those little kid doctor kits and used to do surgery on my dolls. But then I met --” 

“The asshole,” James says. 

One corner of her mouth rises in something related to a smile. “Jack,” she confirms. “Our first week of pre-med. And I fell for him. I was never quite as sure that he really felt the same way about me.” 

“I guess you got your answer.” 

“He's so driven. He's doubled up on classes because he wants to get through as fast as he can. It'd kill anyone else but he makes it look like it's easy. I want to be a doctor, but it's like he was born to be one. So he's not really... the idea of anything putting him off his chosen track must scare the hell out of him.” 

“Yeah, you're pretty scary,” he says. 

“Don't try me,” she glares. 

He grins at her. “Scary like a kitten.” 

“Meow,” she says, and sighs. “Anyway, like I said. It's the oldest story in the book. Girl meets boy. They have a little birth control failure. Girl tells boy. Boy ditches girl in the Waffle House parking lot.” She looks at him a little nervously. 

He shakes his head, trying to make sense of all this. “You're --” 

“Yep.” 

“And you told him he's gonna be a daddy and that's why he drove off?” 

“Not quite,” she says, and tops off her coffee. He waits. “He told me we'd get married and I told him to stuff it, and then he drove off.” 

“Wait, he was cool with it?” 

“He's just trying to do the right thing,” she says. “What he thinks is the right thing. He wants to fix it.” She meets his eyes, and he thinks that her eyes are so impossibly blue. “He told me. He didn't ask me.” 

“You picked a fine time to be wantin' some romance!” James points out. 

“I'm nineteen. This isn't how any of this was supposed to go.” 

“You're scared,” he says. 

She nods. 

“There's things you could do.” 

“I know. I don't want to. But I don't want to mess up my life either.” 

“Wanna run away with me?” he asks. His heart is beating fast in his chest, because what if she says yes? But what if she says no? He likes her. That's all he knows, so far. 

“This is really good coffee,” she says, and finishes another cup. “Thank you for the meal. And for listening. You really didn't have to.” 

“Hey,” he says. “Where are you going?” 

“If you have a quarter, I can call my sister. She'll pick me up.” 

“It's the middle of the night. I can drop you off.” 

“You've done enough already,” she protests. “You should become a cop. Maybe not in LA. But somewhere.” 

“What're you going to do?” he asks gently. 

“Tomorrow, when he comes back feeling incredibly guilty, I'm going to agree to marry him. If it's a boy I'm going to name the baby David. I already decided that, that's how I know...” She stops. “Anyway, Jack will finish med school and become a brilliant surgeon like he's destined to.” 

“What about you? You're gonna be a great doctor.” 

“We'll see,” she says. “We'll probably end up divorced, like my parents.” She looks at him. “I'll be okay.” 

“You sure I can't drive you home? To your sister’s. Wherever?” 

“I'm sure.” She drains the rest of her coffee cup and then slides out of the booth. Impulsively, she leans down and kisses him on the cheek. 

His face feels warm as he digs into his pocket and comes up with a quarter. He holds it up, then pulls it away when she reaches for it. “You're really not gonna tell me your name?” 

She looks like she's thinking about it, and then shakes her head. “What's in a name, anyway.” 

He nods and lets her have the quarter. He gets the reference. “Right, Juliet,” he says sarcastically. He wants to pull her down on his lap and kiss her until she forgets about old what-his-name, the baby daddy. Instead he says, “Good luck.” 

“You too,” she says, and stands there for another moment. Then she turns and heads for the pay phone. 

A minute later, the bell attached to the door rings as it opens. A tall guy with dark hair and wild eyes bursts in, holding a green fabric purse. It's the guy from before. James meets his eyes and gestures with his head in the direction of the pay phone. He watches the guy's face change when he sees her. It's relief. And he loves her. She's gonna be okay. 

Regardless, James has to fight the urge to go over there and punch him out. He throws some bills on the table and stalks out before he has to see their happy reunion, or their not so happy reunion, whichever the case may be. He doesn't want to see them leave together.

He gets in the car and starts it up, ready to turn south according to his original plan. But then he changes his mind and heads west. Los Angeles. Why not. Maybe someday he'll run into her again. 

2\. The island, 2004

Her tent is near the kitchen. It's sort of like living downtown – centrally located, but you get all the noise. Mostly she doesn't mind. Listening to conversations makes her feel like a part of things, even though she's really not. 

This morning, early, as she lies in bed and kind of wishes she had something to read, she hears the soft drawl first. “How 'bout you tell me what you really want, Freckles?” 

“You know what? I'd kill for some coffee, James.” The subtext is slightly darker than playful. There's almost a sneer in her voice when she says his name. 

Juliet can't help smiling, a little bit, to herself, because she did that. James. Kate didn't even know his name until she said it, which Juliet didn't realize until she saw Kate's surprise and James – Sawyer –'s darkening glare. Why he doesn't like the name he was born with and walked around in for at least twenty years, she isn't quite sure, though she'd admit to being curious. 

“You just wait right there,” he says. 

Thirty seconds later, there's a new voice in the kitchen. “There you are,” Jack says. “I've been looking all over for you.” 

“Well, you found me,” Kate says. 

“Sayid and I are going to check out one of the old Dharma stations from his map.” 

“Why're you telling me this?” 

“Because I want you to come with us,” Jack says. 

“Okay,” Kate says, in a questioning, unconvinced way. 

“Grab some water and meet us by the church.” Jack is oblivious as usual. 

Everything is quiet. Juliet sits, trying to decide whether to get up or try to go back to sleep. 

“Freckles?” Sawyer's back.

Oh, Juliet thinks sadly. She takes a deep breath, thinking she's probably going to regret this, and emerges from her tent. Sawyer hears the sound of it and turns, hopefully. Hoping she'll be someone else. She smiles at him in the way she smiles at everyone on the beach, warm and expecting to be shooed away. He narrows his eyes at her and then looks longingly off into the trees. 

“She left,” Juliet says, willing to be the bearer of bad news if it means not seeing his puppy dog eyes looking everywhere for his beloved Freckles. 

“Where'd she go?” 

“Off on some mission with Jack,” Juliet says. She approaches the table. 

“What, you turn 'em down?” 

“No, I wasn't invited,” she says simply and nods to her tent. “I couldn't help overhearing.” 

“Well... great,” he says, irritated. “Thanks for letting me know.” 

She nods helpfully and pulls a box of cereal off the shelf and gives it a shake. “Hungry?” she asks him. 

“I could eat,” he allows, so she pours two bowls. 

“There's no milk.” She sets one of the bowls in front of him. 

“I like it better this way.” He pops a dry piece into his mouth. Then he lets out a sigh and looks at her. He pulls a pot out of the fire and pours it into two mugs he already had set out on the table. 

“Is that –?” she looks at him. 

He nods toward it. “Go ahead.” He picks up his mug and takes a sip and then sighs contentedly. 

Juliet holds it, letting the rich scent drift up into her nose. She can't help closing her eyes at how good it smells. “It's been a long time.” She takes a sip of the coffee. It's amazing. It's strong, and rich, and bitter and it makes her happy. “How did you get it?” 

“Couple packets from the plane, from the drinks cart. Been savin' 'em.” 

She's pretty sure he wasn't saving it for his biggest enemy. “Thank you.” 

“Can't un-boil it at this point,” he says, and takes another long drink. “Might as well enjoy it. Like you said. It's been a long time.” He meets her eyes. “You had coffee over there in New Otherton.” 

“We had a lot of things we didn't appreciate, James,” she says. But then she lets it go and drinks more of the amazing brew. “This is good, but you know what would make it even better?” she asks. 

“Whiskey.” 

“I was thinking milk and sugar, but sure,” she says. 

“Fresh out,” he says, and gives her a look. 

She holds up one finger and he looks at her curiously. “Don't go anywhere,” she says, and heads for her tent. She's back in a few seconds, with the tiny bottle from her backpack in her hand. His eyes light up and he gives a bit of a cheer as she hands it to him. She half expects him to break the seal and up-end it, drink it all himself. But he pours half in his mug and then the rest in hers. Then he clinks his mug against hers, and they both drink. 

It's warm on the way down, and it's nice. 

“That's what you brought with you,” he says. 

She shrugs. “It could be used medicinally. Or for trade. Or --” 

“Or for butterin' up your enemies,” he says. 

“Is it working?” she asks, her tone flat and slightly annoyed. Can't she do anything without being seen as having an ulterior motive? 

“We ain't gonna be best friends,” he tells her. 

“Stranger things have happened,” she points out. 

He sighs, and tips the last of the coffee into their mugs. 

“I don't think she likes you,” Juliet observes. His eyes lock on hers. “Kate.” 

“We do all right,” he says, lowering his gaze and letting his hair fall forward. She wonders if he knows it's one of his tells. Or if he does it on purpose, knowing it makes him appear to be almost shy, which she knows for a fact he is not. 

“It's the way she says your name,” Juliet says. “Your real name.” He scoffs. She continues, softly. “The way she rolls her eyes when you're not looking.” 

“The way she runs off on jungle adventures with the doc while I'm off gettin' her a treat.” The words grind out of him. “I'm not stupid.” 

“I know you're not,” Juliet says. 

“Me'n her, her'n the doc, the doc'n you...” he says and lifts his eyebrows. “Just need you'n me to round out the square.” 

She knows he's only two shades off from serious. There's a heat in his gaze when he looks at her, and she's seen it in his eyes before. It makes her feel breathless, with her heart in her throat, in a way she's not sure anyone ever has before. He looks down at her mouth and tilts his head a little questioningly. She just looks back at him, cool and calm as ever, not betraying anything. 

He gives a little irritated growl and takes another swig of his doctored coffee. It's not very strong but his eyes soften a bit. “There's somethin' else you want from me.” 

She blinks and takes another sip of coffee. 

“How 'bout you tell me what it is.” His voice is low and seductive. 

“There is one thing,” she says, trying to match his tone. He looks interested. “I heard you might have something to read.” 

He snickers, and then his eyes widen. “You're serious? A book? That's what you want?” 

“What else have you got?” she asks. 

“I'm not the mall,” he informs her. 

“I know,” she says. “I guess I was just hoping for... Waldenbooks.” 

He laughs, for real, and it's almost a giggle. The sound of it shoots a little spear of happiness through her. “What you got to trade, B. Dalton?” he asks. “Or were you thinkin' I'd hand it over out of the goodness of my heart just cause you said please?” He gives her a wide grin.

Except she didn't say please. “You're right,” she says. “Never mind.” She drains the rest of her mug. “Thank you, for the coffee, James.” She gets up and starts to walk away. She's counting in her head, wondering how far she'll get. 

Three. “You got a gun.” 

“That's right. I do.” 

“Maybe we could make a trade.” 

“I'm keeping my gun, James.” 

“Then what else you got?” He sounds like she's pulled his toy away. He likes this, she thinks. The back and forth. She would think it's about power, but maybe it's not, not entirely. 

“Information?” 

“What information?” 

“What do you want to know?” she asks him. 

He gives her another of those crocodile smiles. “Uh-uh. Nice try, Blondie.” 

That's when she knows. She smiles, and presents to him her wrist. Wrapped around which is an elastic hair tie, light-colored for blond hair. He looks intrigued. She moves around behind him and then reaches out, sliding her thumbs through his hair just below the temples to part it into sections. It feels very intimate, touching him this way, close enough to catch his scent, feeling the heat of his skin. She smooths his hair and wraps the elastic snugly around it. Then she returns to where she was sitting and looks at his face, which seems exposed. 

“It looks good,” she says. 

“I s'pose that's worth something,” he allows, reluctantly. “C'mon.” They abandon their empty mugs and she follows him across the camp to his tent. People are starting to stir and rise for the day, and Juliet ignores a few curious glances. She wonders if this is increasing her social capital or lowering it. 

He stalks into his tent and she stands for a moment at the tarp flap door, not sure if she should follow him. She would like to see the lair. But a moment later a hand thrusts out, holding a paperback. She takes it, and hears something shut inside the tent. Sawyer then emerges. 

Juliet looks down at the cover of the book she is holding, then looks back at him. 

“That's my favorite one I read here,” he says. 

“Why?” she asks. 

He shrugs. “Bunnies.” 

She narrows her eyes a little like she doesn't understand. “Thank you,” she says, sincerely. He waves it off. She nods, and then holds the book close to her chest, turning back to her shelter. 

“It's a loan,” he calls after her. “I want it back.” 

She keeps walking, pretending like she didn't hear. 

…

She's a couple hundred pages deep by the time Jack gets back from his adventure. His shadow falls over her and she looks up, blinking, returned to the world. His nose is sunburned, and she wonders how she can convince him that sunscreen isn't really optional. 

“Heard you were hanging out with Sawyer,” he says, putting his hands loosely on his hips. “Now you're sitting around reading like him.” 

She raises an eyebrow. “Jealous?” 

He kind of laughs. “You're friends now?” 

In her head, she can hear and see exactly how Kate would respond. Her wrinkled nose, her quick, short, dismissive, lying, “No.” But she doesn't like that, and she isn't Kate. “Maybe,” she says, then pulls one corner of her mouth up into a smirk. “Don't worry, Jack. He still hates me.” 

But she thinks as she says it that maybe it isn't true, entirely. He wouldn't give someone he hated his favorite book that he's read here. He'd give them the thirty-year-old fashion magazines from the Swan station. There's hope for them yet. 

3\. The island, 1974

Juliet sleeps as late as she can on their first morning in 1974. It's not just the sudden luxury of a soft bed and a squishy pillow and clean cotton sheets. She wants to be sure the sub is gone. 

The sunlight streams in through the window and she keeps her eyes shut tight, forcing her body to relax. She's wanted off this island more than anything, but James was right when he said that sub won't take her home. It would just take her away. She thought that might be enough. But what's another two weeks. 

Maybe if she stays in this bed long enough, it won't be 1974 anymore. 

But it's not meant to be. She smells the coffee before she hears the footsteps or senses his presence in the room. It's irresistible. It smells so good, strong and hot. She opens her eyes and sits up. 

James has a Dharma Initiative coffee mug in his hands. They're the same mugs the Others drank out of in her time, letting nothing useful go to waste. He sits down on the edge of her bed, down by her feet, and the way the mattress dips under his weight feels intimate. “It's gone,” he says, like he knew what she was waiting for, and puts the mug into her eager, waiting hands. 

“Thank you,” she says, and hates that she's been so transparent. She takes a sip of the coffee and it's everything she's ever wanted. It takes the edge off her disappointment and uneasiness. 

He's looking at her, and she wants to shrink back from it, so she gazes back at him. After a minute he nods and sighs audibly. “Mornin's a fine time for regret.”

She wants to protest, but she can't. She quirks up one side of her mouth in something akin to a smile and drinks more coffee. “Are you having second thoughts, James?” 

“Locke's our best bet,” he says, which isn't an answer. 

“He doesn't have magical powers,” she says. 

“He got the hell off this island.” 

“He fell down a well. He's dead for all we know.” She's started to raise her voice so she re-centers herself, pulling the emotion back down inside. 

“The flashes stopped. We stopped.” 

“Fine, James,” she says. “He'll come strolling into town tomorrow and you can say 'I told you so.' I'm sure you can't wait.” 

“If he brings them back, he'll have a way of getting us rescued.” 

“I wouldn't be so sure.” 

“I didn't come in here to talk about him,” James says. 

“I know,” Juliet says. “We don't have to talk.” 

He starts to get up to leave, and she lays a hand on his arm to make him stay. He looks at it, looks at her touching him, and resettles. She meets his eyes and he's looking at her the same way he did on the dock last night when he asked her to stay. 

They sit quietly. It's almost a comfortable silence, but there's a tension in him, like he's waiting for more. She wonders what he wants. She sips the hot coffee and feels the weight of his gaze, watching her. She doesn't mind it, but she wonders what he sees. 

“What do you think will happen?” she asks. 

“Thought we were bein' quiet,” he points out. His eyes slide away from hers. “I guess we'll find out.”

He isn't one to just let things happen to him. She looks at him for a long moment. He's a man she's come to rely on, through the time flashes and then after. A man she's come to care about, in some small, strange way that feels like his hand grabbing hers and pulling her out of the path of flaming arrows on the beach. “Why did you come in here?” she frowns a little at the thought. 

He widens his eyes when he looks at her. “To say good mornin'.” 

“And?” 

“And bring you a cup of good cheer.” He traces a line on the sheets between them with his fingertip. “It's only two weeks.” 

“A lot can happen in two weeks,” she says, and swallows the last of the coffee. She thinks about the last two weeks. “People die. Feel reborn. Get betrayed. Meet new people. Leave old friends. Fall in love.” 

He looks at her when she says it, and she feels something pass between them. He gives her that satisfied smile he had last night, and she tilts her head curiously, studying him. His hand comes up and for a moment she thinks he's reaching for her. The bubble of panic and excitement in her chest bursts into nothingness and she feels like a fool when his hand closes over the mug. “Looks like you need a refill.” 

He wrests the mug gently from her hand, and she watches him go. Then she throws back the covers and makes herself get up. It's time to start a new life, again. Starting over is getting to be routine. Maybe this time she'll end up somewhere good. Somewhere worth staying. 

4\. The island, 1974

The morning after, Juliet wakes early. Maybe she's just not used to another body in bed with her, or maybe she's eager to start the day. Maybe it's just too much change. She lies there in his arms, listening to him breathe, and she thinks too much. So she slips away. 

His shirt is on the floor and she slips it on. It smells like him, and she puts her nose inside the collar for a second. She stands and looks at him. He's sprawled out on his stomach. His tan skin makes a contrast to the pale sheets, and his hair falls over his eyes in such a way she wants to brush it back while he is sleeping and vulnerable to such things. If she did, she thinks, his eyes would open and focus on her. 

She drifts into the kitchen and puts some coffee on. While it percolates, she stares out the window over the sink, taking in the blue sky and the yellow house across the way without really seeing them. She pours two cups and takes them into the bedroom. 

The pervasive scent of coffee has roused him, or perhaps the lack of her presence woke him. Or he was faking the whole time. She sits cross-legged at the end of the bed. James's eyes are open, watching her, but one side of his face is still pressed into the mattress. The way he looks at her is hopelessly sexy and the events of the night before play back in a loop in her head. 

“Here,” she says, holding the mug of coffee out to him. 

He groans and sits up. He takes the mug from her and drinks. “Mmm.” He practically purrs with satisfaction. “That's good.” 

“Just add water,” she says, self-deprecating, and takes a sip from her own mug. It is good – steamy hot and strong with just a touch of bitterness lying underneath. 

“You're sittin' way too far away,” he protests, reaching out for her with a hand that falls almost comically short, given that they are both sitting on the same island of a bed. 

“This is nice,” she says. He looks at her, a curious light in his eyes. “You, me, coffee. This. Us.” She can't explain it. It's like being cozy on a rainy day. 

“Last night was more'n nice,” he says. 

She gives him a secret little smile. “It was.” She sips her coffee. “I still remember my first cup of coffee,” she says. “It was a morning a lot like this one.” 

He looks at her interestedly, but she's not sure she wants to say more. “I been drinkin' coffee since I was a kid,” he says. She wonders if it's just coffee that they're talking about. They haven't really traded a lot of stories about the past – perhaps a side effect of being cast backward through time. 

“How young?” she asks. 

“Eight,” he replies, and his voice has taken on that low, rough quality she's starting to recognize. He presses his lips together, then sighs. “I had a lot of trouble sleepin', nights. Then couldn't get out'a bed. So my uncle sets me up with a cup. No milk, no sugar, just hot and bitter and cheap.” She watches the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. “Still couldn't sleep, but I made it to school on time.” 

“That must have been hard on you.” 

He shakes his head and tosses his hair back out of his eyes. “You don't notice when it's all you ever know.” He always sounds so stoic and resigned, but she knows it's the cover for a lot of pain, and fear, and sadness, and yes, self-pity. 

She shifts over on the bed, so she's beside him instead of facing him. She leans against him and he immediately puts his arm around her, enveloping her, snuggling her up. It's the most amazing feeling. He cuddles her in close, kissing her hair. She rests her head against his chest and she thinks she can hear his heart. Feel his heart. 

“All the other vices came later,” he says, and swallows more of the coffee. “Oh, except the beer. I don't remember the first one'a them. My daddy used to let me drink the foam off his.” His fingers rub up and down her arm. “Try not to be so shocked,” he says, maybe because she hasn't reacted. 

It hurts her to think about him that way. To know that child still lives in some vulnerable place inside he hasn't quite been able to hide away. She lifts her head and presses a kiss to his skin, then settles back against him. 

“I wasn't allowed to drink coffee. Or soda. Or eat cereal with sugar in it. My parents said they wanted what was best for us, but sometimes it felt like I was just something they could control.” 

“Don't imagine you liked that much,” he says. “Kinda surprised you didn't rebel.” 

She likes that he thinks of her that way. She wonders if he'd be disappointed to know the truth about her. She's thinking of her marriage, and her three years with the Others when she says, “It was easier to submit. Wait it out.” 

He fiddles with the button on the shirt she's wearing. She only fastened a couple of them. “You still feel that way?” he asks carefully. 

She picks up her head and look at him. “I'm here because I want to be here.” She realizes in that moment how much she wants to hear him say something like that too. Maybe it's more honest if he doesn't. It's funny how much she's come to value honesty, living under the shadow of a big lie here in the 70s. 

The button comes free of the hole. She feels the air like a breath on her skin in the valley between her breasts. He makes an amused sound. 

She takes a last sip of the coffee, and he takes the cup away from her. He sets his own coffee mug on the bedside table and takes her head in both his hands, making her look at him. Maybe he originally meant to say something, but when he parts his lips it's to press them against hers. His thumb strokes the side of her jaw and she opens her mouth to him. He tastes like coffee, but there's no bitterness in it. The kiss deepens, and when it breaks, they move back into their old positions, with him holding her and her head against his shoulder. 

“I could stay right here forever,” he sighs. 

She smiles against his chest, because she wanted words and now she's gotten them. “Maybe not right here,” she suggests, and puts her hand underneath the sheet where it's draped across his lap. 

He sucks in a sharp breath when she touches him. “Close enough,” he growls, and moves so she's on her back beneath him. He leans down to kiss her and she thinks it's not forever, but it's close enough. 

5\. Los Angeles, 2004 / Sideways

They meet in a coffee shop. He's already there when she walks in, late, because she's always late for everything because of her job. She used to hate it, but she's gotten used to it. She sits down across from him in the booth and tucks her sunglasses into her bag. She smiles, feeling awkward. “Hi.” 

“Hello there yourself,” he says in that southern drawl she noticed before. 

“I'm sorry. For being late. There was this woman, and her baby and – yeah.” She nods her head, still feeling a little frazzled when she would rather be calm. But this date makes her nervous. He makes her nervous, because she's never felt such a strong connection to anyone in her life. 

“It's okay, I don't mind. Criminals don't really keep a schedule.” 

A waitress stops by and pours them some coffee. Juliet thanks her, and takes a sip, expecting something only slightly better than the burned jet fuel they drink at the hospital. To her surprise, it's good. It's smooth and flavorful and not bitter at all. “It's good,” she says. 

“If you can't get good coffee in a coffee place...” he says. Then he gives her a wicked grin. “This is my favorite place in the whole city.” 

“Where's your favorite donut shop?” she asks because she can't help herself. He chuckles, and she feels warm inside. She runs a hand along the plastic of the booth. “This place is great.” She looks at the ceiling beams and the seats lined up along the counter, with a view into the kitchen. It's classic, the kind you can't fake. 

“Tell me about yourself,” he invites. 

“Is this an interrogation?” she teases, and he graces her with another flash of his dimples. He is gorgeous, she thinks, not for the first time. 

“If it's easier,” he says. “Where are you from?” 

“Originally? Miami. I came here for college and stayed. What about you? You don't sound like a native.” 

“Alabama 'n Tennessee, mostly,” he replies. 

“How'd you end up here?” 

“Lookin' for something different. Big city to get lost in. Near the ocean.” He drinks his coffee. “Let's see, you already know I'm a cop, and I already know you're a doctor.” 

“There is one important thing you should know,” she says, and then hesitates. It interests him. She loves that she feels like she can see his mind working. He thinks about things. She sips her coffee. “Sometimes it scares people off.” 

“You're married?” 

“No,” she says. 

“Then we're in the clear,” he says, sounding relieved. 

“I was married. Once. It's been a few years now. But that's not the thing. The thing is, I have a son. David. He's fourteen.” She looks at him, and his eyebrows are raised but he looks like he's still waiting for the thing that's going to put him off. “A lot of guys aren't into the whole instant family thing with single moms.” 

“I ain't like that,” he says. 

She nods, absorbing this. Appreciating it, and having a hard time accepting it. “I don't date much,” she admits. 

“Me either,” he admits. 

“Why not?” she asks, interested. With her, it's not just the single mom bias. It is David, a little bit, because she always wants to be really sure before she brings anyone into their life, and mostly the men she meets aren't worth the trouble. There's a lot of doctors, and some nurses, the occasional fix-up. No one ever clicks. She's kind of given up, but there's always been one tiny little corner of her heart that was waiting to find someone. It's stupid to think it of a man she literally just met, but she thinks he might be the someone. 

“The job,” he says, and sighs like it's a lie he's used to telling. “It's hard finding people to trust. The last date I went on... total disaster.” 

“What happened?” she asks. 

“I just blew it.” He makes a gesture with his hands kind of like an explosion. “It's easier not to let people in.” 

“Why?” she asks. “You've got a dark, dirty secret?” 

“Yeah,” he admits easily. She raises her eyebrows, a little surprised. “Look, not to sound all Miss Cleo here, but you felt it too. That... something... between us?” 

She nods. “I've never felt anything like that before. And I feel like --” 

“Like we've known each other forever,” he finishes. 

“Comfortable,” she confirms. “And a spark.” 

“Hell of a spark, more like a lightning bolt,” he says. “So anyway. This story. I don't tell people. I only just told my partner and we've been together ten years.” He stops and looks at her. “Detective partner.” 

“Of course.” 

She watches him hesitate, now that he's made it this big thing he's going to trust her with. She wants to know, and on some level feels like she already knows and he's just going to remind her. She starts to put her hand down on his but then stops before she touches him, because she's not sure. What if they feel that electricity again? What if they don't? 

Her hand presses down on top of his. It's just a hand. Warm, and strong, and his. It's exciting but there's no fireworks. 

“When I was a kid,” he says, and his voice is creaky and dry. He sips his coffee. “My folks got ripped off by a con man. My mama slept with him, handed over their life savings. My daddy didn't take it too well. He shot her. Shot himself. I survived cause I was hidin' under the bed.” He looks at her with intensity. 

“There aren't really words,” she says, because it is shocking. “I'm sorry.” 

He nods. “I'm a vice cop. I spend half my time tryin' to catch people like that. It changes you. You can try'n not let it, but you see the worst.” He looks out the window and drinks more coffee. “I usually tell people I became a cop because of the movie Bullitt. You seen it? Steve McQueen?” 

She shakes her head. 

“We'll watch it. You'll hate it. Anyway.” He wets his lips and moves his head deliberately so his hair will fall back out of his eyes. “I trust my partner with my life, and I didn't even tell him that story. Girls, trying to have a relationship, built on what? Wasn't gonna work out.” 

“But you trust me,” she says slowly. 

“You believe in love at first sight?” 

“No,” she says, because that's what she thought she had with Jack. She saw him and she knew, or thought she knew. She was young and stupid and incredibly wrong. 

“Maybe that's what this is. That spark, everything, maybe it's normal.” 

She gives him a doubtful look. “You don't believe that.” 

“I don't,” he admits. 

“It doesn't need a name. It just is,” she tells him, and he looks intrigued. She drinks her coffee. 

“I went to Australia a couple weeks ago. Looking for that guy, the con man. Ever since I got back, it's like something's different. People seem –“ he shakes his head. “And then there's you. How'd you explain that?” 

“Did you find him?” she asks. 

“No.” 

“Do you still want to?” 

He pauses, like he's searching inside himself. “Not really.” He frowns. “Maybe it's a brain tumor.” 

She smiles. “It's not,” she says. “You went on the trip and it changed you, so now everything seems different.” 

“Okay, Oprah, then what about you?” he asks. She doesn't understand. “Why are you here? With me. Right now.” 

“Because I felt it,” she says simply. It's all she's got, and really, she doesn't need more than that. “There aren't many people I feel a real connection with. Who I feel close to. There's my son, and my sister, and my ex, kind of, even now. That's about it. And you. It doesn't have to be weird, or creepy. We don't have to analyze it or try to explain it. It's tempting, but we don't need it. We both know. That's enough.” 

They settle into silence, drinking their coffee. Juliet finishes hers, and set the mug down on the table a little hard. “That is ridiculous. Is the food here this good?” 

“It ain't bad,” he says. “Try the burgers.” 

“Then it wouldn't just be coffee,” she says, and gives him a mysterious little smile. 

“It was never just going to be coffee,” he says, and she can see their entire future laid out in front of her. It's going to be good. 

\+ One cup of tea  
The island, 1977

“You sure you don't want some tea?” Bernard asks. 

Juliet turns. She looks at Bernard and Rose and this life they've built here together, out of nothing. They're right. The rest of the group is always trying to kill each other, and being together is all that matters, and Jack is going to blow up the island whether they help him or stop him or stand on their heads. 

“I'd like that,” she says. Bernard smiles at her and it's almost more than she can stand. Her stomach hurts so much. She can catch up. Sawyer and Kate won't even notice. 

Bernard smiles at Rose and turns to get the water that's heating on the fire. Rose sifts some Dharma loose-leaf tea into a chipped porcelain mug. Bernard pours the water and then hands it to her. “Thank you,” Juliet says, and looks down into the cup. 

She feels like her life – their life – has been fading away. Moment by moment, things slide into the abyss. It won't be long until it's all gone, and she doesn't know what she'll have left. She sips the tea. It's scalding and she feels it burn all the way down. Dharma tea has always been bitter, and being here just enhances its familiar flavor. 

“Your home is beautiful,” she says. “It's like Swiss Family Robinson.” 

“We've done all right,” Bernard says, and he glows with love when he looks at Rose. 

Juliet tries to smile, because it's sweet, it really is. She thinks there was a time when James looked at her like that, but now it's all messed up in her head and she's not sure she can remember. Maybe she was wrong all this time and it was never there. Maybe it was never real between them at all. 

“A cup of tea won't cure all that ails you,” Rose says. “But it can try, and you'll feel better for a minute while you're drinking it, anyway.” 

“You never intended to leave,” Juliet says, realizing it for the first time. She's thinking about all those years ago, the frenzied rush to try to ferry people from the island to the freighter. 

“We had a choice,” Bernard says, and he takes Rose's hand. 

“I think you know the island is special, don't you, honey?” Rose says. Juliet nods. “I had cancer. Terminal. But the island healed me. We couldn't leave this gift we'd been given, of time.” 

Juliet's eyes are swimming in tears again, thinking of everything time has taken away from her. She's thinking about Rachel, and cancer, and Julian, and how many wrong choices she's made in her life. She's done so many terrible things. She didn't deserve even a minute of the happiness or the love she's felt. “That's beautiful,” she says. 

“It was just a choice. We all make dozens of choices, every single day. Some are bigger than others.” 

She keeps choosing the island. She gave him two weeks. She stopped the sub so they could come back. She's still here. If they help Jack, and his crazy idea actually works, she'll still be here. 

If none of them ever come here, Ben will die and she'll be free. 

Or maybe the bomb will explode and they will all just die here. One last bright white flash here on the island and it will all be done. She doesn't believe in heaven but she wonders for a hysterical second if she will see him there. 

She knew better than to love him. She really, really did. 

She's almost finished her tea. It's almost time to go. 

The trees rustle and crash and James emerges. His eyes lock onto her. “What the hell, Juliet?” 

“Hello, James,” she says. She swallows the last of the tea and hands the cup to Bernard. She looks at him and at Rose. “Thank you,” she says, and it's heartfelt. 

“We'll be praying for you, honey,” Rose says, and emphasizes the word “you” to make it clear she's not including the others. Juliet has to wonder why, and why they offered her hospitality in the first place. 

“I thought we were stopping Jack,” James says, holding his open hands out like he doesn't understand. “You're sittin' here havin' a snack.” 

She goes to him and puts her hand on his arm. Just like the old days. They head into the jungle, back on their mission. “You came back for me,” she says, and her voice breaks in the middle. It had never occurred to her that he would come back. She thought he might notice she wasn't with them, but that she'd catch up. Never in a million years did she think he'd leave Kate and come back for her. 

“Of course I came back,” he says, frowning at her deeply. 

She's loved him for three years and now she wonders if she's ever really understood him at all. 

“I just – you --” She can't find the words. How can she tell him how stupid she is, that he looked at a woman he once had a fling with and she was jealous and hurt? “Nevermind,” she says. 

“Juliet,” he says, and stops. He looks at her, hard. “Come on.” 

Kate comes running out of the trees at them, yelling about Jack. He's at the Swan site, but so are the Dharma people, and she's afraid they're going to kill him so they have to hurry. She runs back in the direction she came from, expecting them to follow. 

James reaches out his hand and Juliet takes it. 

“I don't want to forget you,” she says. “If it works.” 

“It ain't gonna work,” he says. “Besides, we're gonna stop him.” 

“If we don't –“

“Then we're together, Blondie, and that's all that matters.” He squeezes her hand and they take off running. 

They make it to the edge of the Swan crater just in time to see Jack standing at the edge of the drilling site. He drops the bomb in. They brace themselves for the flash, for the heat, for the death. 

It doesn't come. Nothing happens. 

Then everything happens all at once. Things begin to fly through the air toward the hole, and the drill itself begins to collapse. Tons of scaffolding and machinery fall, twisting and crumpling as it falls. 

James's hand still holds Juliet's, tight. 

There's a huge, creaking symphony as metal gives way and plummets. One of the pieces must hit the bomb in just the right way, or the impact of its falling was delayed, because the bomb detonates and a bright white flash engulfs them. In another second, either way, they'll know. 

End


End file.
